


The Case of the Missing Markers

by MudDog



Category: Gintama, Pandora Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crack, Elliot's legs, Gen, Okita Sougo is sadistic, but that's nothing new, everyone is insane, except Gil..., maybe..., warring student organizations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MudDog/pseuds/MudDog
Summary: "Geez, Gil, you look like someone drowned your gerbil. What's up?"Gil lifted his chin off his arms. "I haven't had a gerbil since I was seven," he said, "and it died of old age. This is worse." He nodded at the whiteboard and then buried his face back into his sleeves. "The student council stole our markers."A.K.A.: Gil learns that not all kinds of crazy can be beat down with a good dose of common sense.





	1. Pawn to H144

**Author's Note:**

> This probably makes very little sense, but it was a lot of fun to write. Cross-posted from my FF account. Warning for Elliot's legs.

At 3:30 on Wednesday March 5th, Gil entered room H230 and discovered a message on the whiteboard.

_Until such time as SAB formally relinquishes all claims of ownership to the aqua blue, dusk rose, and autumn leaf whiteboard markers, originally residing in room H230, relocated to H144 as of Tuesday March 4th, POW Nightray shall remain in the custody of SCAF. The location of the prisoner shall not be disclosed until such time as SCAF receives written confirmation from SAB in agreement to the terms. The document must be signed by all acting members of SAB (with the exception of POW Nightray) and must be hand-delivered to SCAF Secretary/Treasurer Rio, preferably directly following his baseball practice on North Field. 6:00 is good. Thanks._

Beneath the message was a sketch of some animal, done in black marker, which Gil figured might be a bloodhound, though he really couldn't tell.

There were no whiteboard markers. Just the eraser, a lone wolf on its cold, metal ledge, and Gil had to sympathize. He was the only one who ever came on time to the biweekly meetings of the Student Activities Board.

Oz showed up ten minutes later with the usual blob of gum in his mouth. Pink, Gil saw, as Oz blew out a bubble. The front of his hair was tied back into two pigtails and Gil was sure his combat boots had lost another buckle since last time he'd seen them.

Oz popped the bubble and chewed it back into his mouth. "Geez, Gil, you look like someone drowned your gerbil. What's up?"

Gil lifted his chin off his arms. "I haven't had a gerbil since I was seven," he said, "and it died of old age. This is worse." He nodded at the whiteboard and then buried his face back into his sleeves. "The student council stole our markers."

Oz followed Gil's nod. "Dusk rose was my favorite," he said. He paused, then added, "But at least they said 'thanks.' Oooh, and they drew a chinchilla, look! Isn't that cute?"

"It's a bloodhound," said Gil.

"How do you know?"

"I'm better with animals."

"Hello," said Sharon from the doorway, "Sorry I'm late."

"Hlumm," Gil said without looking up. He didn't need to. Sharon wore the same clothes and the same expression every day. Summer dress, cardigan in a shade of pastel – blue usually – and a smile so sweet, so benevolent that it made Gil's hair curl, and Gil's hair was already more than curly enough.

"So they took Vincent?" Sharon said, having read the student council's note without prompting.

Gil uncovered his eyes. He'd been right about the sundress. Tulip pattern today. "I'm not worried about Vincent," he grumbled. "The problem is how to get the whiteboard markers back when we're outnumbered."

"We won't be outnumbered if we get Mr. Break to help," Oz pointed out.

"He won't help," said Gil. "He enjoys watching us suffer."

"You need to be more optimistic," Oz told him, coming over to sit on the neighboring desk and frowning down at the top of Gil's head. "A positive attitude is the first step to success."

"Doesn't seem to have helped you much."

"I don't have a positive attitude." He was still frowning, and Gil began to feel uncomfortably judged. There was something not at all fair about being judged by a boy in pigtails. "Underneath all the rainbows, I'm quite negative. Right, Sharon?"

"Mmhmm," Sharon agreed absently as she bent to examine the sketch on the whiteboard.

"See?" said Oz. "But that's not you. You're more like a flower, and you need to embrace it or you're going to end up dead with your intestines eaten out by the people you thought were your friends."

"Mmhmm," Sharon nodded. "Is this a chinchilla?"

Oz hopped off the desk and skipped over to Sharon's side as if Gil's imminent disembowelment had not just been the topic under discussion. "That's what I said! Gil's convinced it's a bloodhound, but it's two to one now."

"I didn't say I was _convinced_ it's a bloodhound," Gil protested, "I just think it looks more like a dog than a chinchilla. Don't chinchilla's have really tiny ears?"

"Abstract art," said Oz. "You can't trust the proportions."

"Hmm," said Sharon.

Gil was about to explain why they were both very much wrong when his thoughts were derailed by the eerie wheeze of an opening cabinet, and he snapped his head about to find Mr. Break stepping down from the beaker cupboard. "Hello, children," he said as he dusted off his sleeves and then reached back to retrieve his coffee mug from among the beakers, "I hear that the Armed Forces of the Student Council have absconded with poor Vincent."

"It's the Student Council Armed Forces," Gil snapped. He hadn't meant for it to come out so heated, but it was mostly Mr. Break's fault for popping out of odd places without proper warning. Gil had never liked surprises.

"They have the dusk rose marker," Oz explained.

"And aqua blue and autumn leaf," Sharon added as she looked up from the board.

Mr. Break sat down behind his desk, plucked Emily off his shoulder, and dropped her into his coffee mug. "Hmm," he said as he stirred the puppet about with his pointer finger.

Gil glanced back at Oz and Sharon for confirmation that this was normal Mr. Break behavior. They both had him for chemistry, so they were more accustomed to his peculiarities than Gil, and neither of them seemed at all perturbed by current events.

Then again, Gil did not place much faith in their judgment. It had always been his job to ensure that their meetings maintained some semblance of sanity. "Mr. Break, is there a reason…" He motioned to where Emily spun about in the mug.

Mr. Break poked at the puppet's head to more thoroughly submerge her. "She enhances the bitterness," he said, "And it's not like she can feel it, now is it?"

"Hot!" Emily protested.

Mr. Break patted her on the head. "Shhh."

"Hot!" Emily repeated.

Mr. Break smiled at Gil. "Don't you have a set of whiteboard markers to rescue?"

"Dusk rose!" said Oz.

"The student council should still be in H144," Sharon pointed out. "I think their meetings run until 4:20."

"But we're outnumbered!" Gil protested. "There are four of them and only three of us, and they have our markers as hostages."

"And Vincent," said Sharon.

"We can take them!" Oz already had the door half open, waiting for Sharon and Gil to follow. "I'll say smart stuff, and Sharon will look cool and intimidating, and Gil…" Oz trailed off, blinking at Gil with crooked eyebrows. "You'll be there for backup."

"Why did I ever agree to do this?" Gil grumbled to his sleeves.

"Because we let you be president," said Sharon, which was true, but Gil had been hoping they'd leave it as a rhetorical question.

He sighed and stood. Oz had already left, and Sharon's hand was on the doorknob. "Where my people go, I follow," he told the whiteboard.

"Lemmings," Mr. Break beamed.

"What?" said Gil.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud. Theories on the student council's lovely drawing."

"It's a bloodhound," Gil frowned as he pushed into the hallway.

"Hmm," Mr. Break hummed.

"Hot!" said Emily.

The door groaned closed behind him, and Gil set off down the hallway, practicing the expression he'd use against the student council. It had to be tough, but intellectual. He couldn't look like some thug. He had to look cultured, but not snobbish. It was difficult, and by the time he'd descended the stairs to the first floor and begun counting down the even-numbered side of the hall, he figured the look he'd managed was probably more constipated than anything.

In the end, it didn't matter. Whatever expression he'd managed to cobble together fell to pieces when he was snatched by the waist and dragged into H130, where, before he had time to say anything more than, "Nglaah," he found himself tied to the teacher's desk by a rough band of fabric. Denim, if he had to guess. It smelled like denim.

"Well, well, well," said the cultured voice of Elliot Nightrey, student council president and knot-tier extraordinaire, as he gave a final tug to the binds around Gil's wrists and then moved to stand in front of him. "If it isn't Gilbert Nightraye."

Gil blanched. The cloth tying his hands was definitely denim. Jeans, in fact. Elliot's jeans, because Elliot wasn't wearing pants. Uncovered as they now were, his legs were very pale and very skinny, like an albino spider, and a shiver crawled up Gil's spine. He didn't like spiders. He didn't like Elliot's legs. He didn't like Elliot at all really, and especially after his role in the kidnapping of the Activities Board's markers.

"Nightrey," he muttered.

"Yes," said Elliot, "Fear me, Gilbert Nightraye, for you are my prisoner now." He frowned. "And stop staring at my knees."

Gil jerked his neck to the side. "Well, why'd you take your pants off?!"

Elliot turned a bit pink, but he stayed where he was. "I didn't have rope, so I came up with an alternate solution. I don't need your approval."

" _I_ don't need the image of your legs burned into my brain!"

"Then sign the contract," Elliot said, though he didn't meet Gil's eyes as he dropped the sheet of paper he'd been holding onto Gil's lap, "and I'll untie you."

Gil wiggled a bit trying to shake the paper off. "Never," he said. "The markers are ours, and, as the president of the Student Activities Board, I can't let you just take them without suffering consequences."

"Alright," said Elliot.

"Alr—" Gil didn't know what to do with that. "Don't you have some evil plan?"

"Me?" said Elliot. "No, I prefer to make it up as I go. It's very liberating, I've found. But, if it makes you feel better, I'm sure Council Members Rio and Jacky have done the appropriate amount of plotting in dark corners."

"Oh," said Gil. "Well… where are they?"

"In a battle to the death with Vessalius and Reinsworth. Alice is probably there, too."

"Oh," said Gil. He still wasn't entirely sure what this meant for his current situation with Elliot, who seemed perfectly content to just stand there pantless and do nothing. "Um… so are you going to join them then?"

"No. I'm just going to stand here."

Gil was saved from having to come up with a response by a loud bang on the door, which sprung open a second later to admit a perky head of pigtails in combat boots. "Hey, Gil!" they said.

"You!" said Elliot.

"You!" said Oz, pointing back at Elliot with wide eyes before retracting the arm to tap at his chin. "Actually, who are you?"

"He's the Student Council President," Gil said. Why couldn't Oz stay updated on even the most basic school news?

"Aha!" said Oz. He once again snapped his arm towards Elliot, who took a little step back on reflex. "Are you the one who drew the chinchilla?"

"What chinchilla?"

"It's a bloodhound," Gil scowled.

"What?"

"Do you know the Pigeonhole Theorem?" said Oz.

"Why—" Elliot began.

"Can you list the ingredients in SPAM?"

"Why would I—"

"Who was the third Prime Minister of England? Could you give me the closed form for a finite series of alternating, inverse factorials? What is the difference between a watermelon and an elephant?"

"I don't—"

"The answer," said Oz, "is that the watermelon has seeds."

Elliot was shocked into silence. He didn't move when Oz walked around him, or when he began to untie the jean cuffs around Gil's wrists, or even when Oz folded the jeans and placed them neatly atop the desk.

"See," said Oz as Gil followed him out the door, "That's how it's done."

The last thing they heard from H130 as the hinges squeaked shut was, "But I know the Pigeonhole Theorem," and Gil almost felt like turning around to give Elliot a pat on the back. Fortunately or unfortunately, his conviction to never again lay eyes on Elliot's legs was stronger.

"I know how it's done," Gil scowled. "I was just trying to collect information on our enemy's movements while their guard was down."

"They're all in H144. Except Alice."

"Well then," Gil said, tugging his shirt collar straight, "What are we waiting for? Let's go rescue our markers."

"It's not that easy. They've hidden them."

"They've— Is this preschool?!"

Oz beamed through his gum. "It's much more fun than that. In preschool there was always spit on things when you got them back; this time it will just be the bitterness of defeat, and I've always liked my markers bitter."

"Why do I work with you people?"

Oz pat his shoulder but said nothing. He smiled instead, and then he opened the door to H144.


	2. The Pigeonhole Theorem Strikes Again!

Inside, Jacky had her hands tangled in Sharon's hair as she tried to pull her off of Rio. Rio was lying face down on the classroom floor, Sharon planted firmly in the center of his back, her sundress folded neatly around her legs.

"He's lying on top of aqua," Sharon said when she caught sight of Oz and Gil.

"No, I'm not," Rio protested. "We gave them all to Alice to hide, so will you please get off me?"

"I believe he is attempting to mislead us," said Sharon to Gil. "Even if he is not, I would like to ascertain the locations of the markers before I let him up."

"I approve," said Oz.

"But I don't know where she's hiding them!" wailed Rio. "And this hurts!"

Jacky sighed and untwisted her fingers from Sharon's hair. "I'm sorry, Rio," she said, "I'm aborting your rescue mission; it doesn't seem to be working."

"Then try new tactics!"

Gil decided, as SAB president, this was the time to take charge of the situation. He walked to the front of the room and crossed his arms over his chest. "Listen up everyone," he said. "I'm taking charge."

"Really?" said Jacky. She stepped over Rio's legs and sat down in one of the front row desks.

Oz skipped over to sit next to her.

Gil had never realized before just how alike they looked. Their hair was almost exactly the same shade of blond, forming identical curls around their ears, and they stared at him with eyes that were equally green and equally creepy.

"Gil?" said Oz. "You said you were taking charge. Of who? What's the big plan?"

"I'm taking charge of this classroom," said Gil. "The goal is to ascertain the location of the markers, and the plan is in progress."

"I'll just be sitting here," said Sharon, to which Rio said, "Can someone please get her off me? I swear I don't have any markers, and I don't know where they are."

Alice came in then, throwing the door open, which would have been a big statement if it hadn't had a spring-close mechanism that prevented it from slamming into the wall, or moving fast at all really. She glared at it, and then glared at all of them.

"The markers are ours," she said, "and you won't find them ever again."

"Can I point something out please," said Gil.

"No," said Alice.

Gil looked to Oz for support, who nodded at him to continue, so he said, "If you've hidden the markers, what was the point? It's not like you can use them. Or did you just want to spite us that badly?"

"No," Rio wheezed. "They'll only be hidden until you sign the contract. Then the markers will be officially ours, and they can come back out into the open."

"I see," said Oz, standing up and heading towards Gil, Rio, Sharon and the whiteboard. "Then if I just…" He reached out for something, but his body was blocking it from Gil's view. Alice, however, must've realized what was happening because her eyes suddenly narrowed and she lunged for him.

"Don't you dare!" she said, trying to pry open Oz's fist, which had closed around some small object, hiding it.

"What did he get?" Jacky asked, still sitting in her desk.

"He got toad!"

"Ow," said Oz as Alice, unable to unclench his fingers, turned to scratching instead.

Gil, who had been sure Oz had grabbed a marker, now found himself lost. "You're not allowed to bring animals into the school buildings," he told Rio, since the possibility Alice would stop clawing at Oz long enough to hear him out was slim to none.

Rio's eyebrows furrowed in what might have been distress or indignation, but, when he opened his mouth to speak, only a high-pitched breathy sound came out.

"Sharon," Gil said, eyeing the polite smile she wore with a growing sense of unease, "we don't want to actually kill anyone."

Sharon laughed over the yelps and hisses of Oz and Alice's battle. "Oh, of course not. He has at least another fifteen minutes."

The furrow between Rio's eyebrows deepened, and his mouth moved in silent, alarmed ways. Gil felt a deep connection to Rio in that moment. But not deep enough to face off against Sharon.

"Alright," he said, "Just… be careful."

"Mmhm," Sharon agreed.

"Aieee!" said Oz, "Gilbert, she bit me!"

Gilbert wacked his head against the whiteboard, which hurt, but not as much as the nonsensical drivel coming out of everybody's mouths.

"STOP!" came a shout from the door, followed by the crack of the knob against the wall as the spring mechanism broke and it banged open. Gil snapped his neck up to find Elliot standing there, hair stuck to his forehead like a dirty blond helmet, and breathing hard. Everyone stopped.

"No," Gil moaned, closing his eyes and turning to bang his head against the whiteboard again. "Why didn't you put on the pants?"

"You saw! The nut-job touched them!"

"Me?" said Oz, evidently recovered from the blinding shock of Elliot's legs. "When you keep _this thing_ around?"

Gil couldn't see where Oz was pointing because he'd just cracked his head into the board for the fifth time, but it had to be at Alice. If it wasn't Alice, then Oz was a basket case, and if Oz was a basket case, then Gilbert was agreeing with Elliot, and if the head of the Student Activities Board and the Student Council President agreed on something then the school was done for, since it was only the force of the enmity between their respective organizations that had kept it standing all these years. It was recorded in the city archives that Building A didn't possess the structural integrity to last past 1968, but there it was, preserved alongside its brothers B through H by the incredible strength of hatred.

Alice hissed.

"Oooh," said Jacky, who hadn't moved from her front-row desk chair, "I don't think she liked that."

"Please remember that she bit me."

"You were talking about seeds!" Elliot accused, "And elephants! And you left before I could tell you the Pigeonhole Theorem!"

Alice bared her teeth at Oz. "You had it coming," she agreed, "and I'll do it again if you don't hand toad over."

"How'd he get toad? Rio, what happened?"

Gilbert winced at the several weak thuds that constituted Rio's response before setting his shoulders, lifting his chin, and turning to face the madness.

"Everybody needs to quiet down," he said. "If we keep this up the Disciplinary Committee is going to track us down, and nobody wants them involved." He glared at Elliot. His face, not his creepy spider thighs. "Right?"

The room did quiet somewhat, though Rio's nails continued to squeak against the floor tiles as he attempted to claw his way out from under Sharon, hopes of rescue evidently abandoned.

"Shh," said Sharon, petting his head in a manner much too similar to Mr. Break's treatment of Emily for Gil's comfort.

"I'm not wearing pants," Elliot hissed, as if everyone wasn't already painfully aware. "Do they arrest people for that?"

"It's worse," said Oz as Alice made a jump for the fist he was now holding over his head. "They cut out your kneecaps and feed them to the goldfish in Bio Lab 2, and then they make you watch while the goldfish eat them. I knew a guy who—"

"No," Gil snapped, "you didn't. Stop being so morbid. And no, Elliot, they don't do that."

Elliot flicked his bangs out of his face, crossed his arms, and frowned. "I know. Obviously."

"You looked worried," said Jacky.

"Shh," said Sharon, this time to everybody. "I think I heard…"

Silence engulfed the room as she trailed off, and seven sets of ears strained to listen. There were footsteps overhead and then the sound of voices echoing down the hallway.

"We don't know it's the Disciplinary Committee," Elliot pointed out.

Sharon smiled at him and pet a wrinkle out of her tulip-covered dress skirt. "I think we can be reasonably sure."

Jacky nodded, pausing in chewing off a hangnail to explain, "No one else travels in packs after four."

Gil's skin was starting to itch. Much as he loathed the Student Council Armed Forces, the Disciplinary Committee was clearly the greater of the two evils, and a run-in at a time like this would be catastrophic, if not to SAB's reputation, then at least to Gil's mental health.

"We should hide," he said.

By the sound of it, the Disciplinary Committee was already out in the hall, so they'd all have to hide in this room, and, as far as Gil could see, there were only five cabinet-type things that could fit a person.

Elliot seemed to be realizing the same thing. "Aha!" he said, smirking at Oz. "Pigeonhole Theorem! Seven people, five spaces means at least one space will have to have more than one person."

"Well duh," said Alice. "What idiot wasted his life proving that?"

Elliot gave her a pouty look. "You missed the earlier conversation."

"Shut up," Gil hissed. "Hide."

"I call Gil," Oz said, taking advantage of Alice's temporary distraction to dart around her and grab Gil's arm, proceeding to drag him towards the teacher's desk, which included a cabinet for the computer cords that could conceivably fit two people if they squished. Very tightly.

"Uh," said Gil.

Oz opened the cabinet, saluted the room, and then stuffed Gil inside before squeezing in next to him.

"Ow!"

"Huh?" Oz closed the cabinet and locked them into darkness.

"Nothing," Gil grumbled, rubbing his ribs where Oz's elbow had stabbed them. "You smell sweaty."

Gil couldn't see anything, but Oz's shirt rubbed up against his arm as he adjusted, and Gil could hear it when Oz inhaled. "Oooh, I do."

"Shh!" said Gil.

Oz stopped squirming, and they both fell silent to listen to the muffled voices, footsteps, and hinge creaks that told of the others' efforts to conceal themselves.

"They better not give us away," Gil grumbled.

Oz patted his knee twice before Gil managed to flick his hand away.

And then there was a bang as the doorknob hit the wall for the second time that day and the thuds and squeaks of the Disciplinary Committee's sneakers filled the room.


	3. The Evilest of Evils

"There's no one here."

Gil shivered. To his horror, Oz must have noticed because he resumed patting Gilbert's knee, and Gil couldn't flick it away this time in case it made a noise.

Footsteps moved across the floor.

"There is," said a second voice. "I can smell the fear in the air."

There was a sigh, and then a new pair of shoes squeaked towards the middle of the room. "Okita-kun, don't you think we should give the Armed Forces of the Student Council a little more credit? Would they really hide in a room with only five cabinets and no way to escape except the windows?"

"It's the Student Council Armed Forces," said the second voice, now identified as that evilest of evils, Okita Sougo. "And Elliot Nightrey has the IQ of a tangerine. I bet your carotid artery he's in here."

Gil silently prayed that a tangerine's IQ was high enough that Elliot would stay in his cabinet.

"Bet your own carotid artery," grumbled the first voice, which had to belong to Okita's handler, Hijikata Toushirou. "Don't we need to take into account the intelligence of the Activities Board, too?"

"We don't have an Activities Board."

Oz's patting got a bit harder.

"What? No, we totally do. Don't you remember when the Baskervilles came to junior prom?"

"No."

"Seriously? All those balloons with the gothic clocks? Those things freaked me out."

"No."

"And then it turned out the venue hadn't paid its electric bill that month and the sound system shut off. And the lights. And—"

"Oh. That was the Activities Board?"

"Yeah. I mean, pretty sure. Like, I wouldn't bet my carotid artery on it, but yeah."

"Huh."

Gil had caught Oz's hand when the patting had begun to hurt, and now he was squeezing it—probably too hard—but Oz wasn't complaining. If that evilest of evils, Okita Sougo, had any idea what went into planning junior prom… And when the Student Council refused to give them more than two thousand dollars for it (Gil didn't want to know how Oz had convinced the Baskervilles to come)... And when you had to sift through all those response forms where students had filled out the 'other' category instead of checking one of the listed themes, even when there was no 'other' category printed on the form… If that evilest of evils, Okita Sougo, had any idea, then he would be shutting up now, because otherwise Gil was going to jump out there and strangle him with the computer cord that was currently digging a line of fire up his right thigh. He dug his nails into Oz's palm.

Oz made a tiny pained noise.

"Shh!" said Okita.

"I didn't say anything."

As the echo of Hijikata's voice faded, the room went silent.

A shiver skipped down Gil's spine. He tightened his grip on Oz's hand.

"I smell it," said Okita Sougo, his voice much lower and closer this time. "Fear."

With the hand that wasn't busy crushing Oz's, Gil reached down to grab the computer cord. It was made instantly slippery from the sweat on his palm, and Gil squeezed it almost as hard as he was squeezing Oz's fingers to make sure it wouldn't slide out of his grip at the crucial moment.

"Right… here." A cabinet banged open. Not their cabinet. There was a high pitched squeak that had to be Rio, and then the desperate screeches of rubber-soled sneakers on tile. Then there was a crash and a yelp.

"It wasn't me!" said Rio, wheezing again. "I swear! I was pinned to the floor for all of it. I had no part. I denounce all associations."

"Shut up," said Hijikata.

"Hmm," said Okita Sougo.

"We should help him," Oz whispered into the side of Gil's forehead.

Gil grimaced and leaned away from the tickly sensation. "No we shouldn't," he hissed. "Did you not hear him just denounce his association to us. He's totally going to sell us out."

"We should rescue him."

Gil dug his nails harder into Oz's palm. "If you blow our cover..."

"Gil, we _have_ to rescue him."

"Shh! No, we don't! He's an evil worm, and he's never done anything for us!"

"But we're the Activities Board," Oz protested, no quieter than before, and Gil was going to strangle him if he couldn't get Okita first.

"So? It isn't like lifeguarding; we didn't swear to save anybody."

"Gilbert Nightraye," Oz said, voice gone solemn, "For your cowardice and lack of leaderly conduct, I, Oz Vessalius, curse you and your family, and all your future family, and all of their families, and any property any of you own. May you never grow facial hair and may there always be leaks in your plumbing."

Gil felt himself pale, the skin gone pinched with blood loss before it rushed back in an angry, tomato torrent. That was uncalled for. The Nightrayes already had enough curses to a sink a flotilla, and any more might effectively halt international shipping. Plus, Oz knew Gil was sore about his lack of facial hair.

"Oz Vessalius," Gilbert began, puffing up his chest as much as he could in the restricted space of the cabinet. "I, Gilbert Nightraye, do solemnly curse you right back. May your pigtails wither and—"

But Oz had thrown open the cabinet door, and it swung back to whack Gil in the nose, cutting him off.

"Disciplinary people!" Gil heard Oz shout as he clutched at his bruised nose and scowled through the water in his eyes. "Unhand the secretary!"

Why had he ever thought having Oz on the board was a good idea? Why did no one ever listen to him? What did it mean to be the president if no one listened to him? Gil gave his nose another tentative prodding to make sure it hadn't been bent out of shape or dripped blood everywhere, and then, with as much grace as possible, he crawled out of the cupboard.

Oz was standing there with his hands on his hips and his shoulders thrown back like some stupid kid superhero, and Gil pulled on his shirt perhaps harder than necessary as he dragged himself upright. The throb in his nose prevented him from feeling any remorse for the dirty finger marks he'd left.

Rio was pinned to the floor by an impeccable, black boot, which belonged to that evilest of evils, Okita Sougo, and he was straining his neck to the side trying to see.

Okita Sougo was looking at Oz with his head tipped like a bird of prey—a very short, chichi bird of prey—indifferent to Rio's gaze.

Hijikata sat on a desk, trying to pick something out of his teeth and not looking at anyone.

"Who are you?" said Okita Sougo to Oz. He didn't give any indication that he'd noticed Gil's presence, but Gil was positive he had. Nothing escaped the evil eye of Evil.

"I'm whoever I want to be," said Oz, giving his head a sharp shake so that his pigtails flapped in emphasis. "I am the moon and the waning tide! What are you?"

"He's Okita Sougo," Gilbert grumbled, once again bemoaning Oz's lack of interest in the political structure of their high school. "Third chair of the disciplinary committee and unsurpassably sadistic."

"Sougo," Okita Sougo said to Oz as if Gil wasn't there and hadn't spoken.

Hijikata flicked aside whatever he'd managed to scrape off his teeth. "Since when do you go by Sougo?"

Okita ignored him like he'd ignored Gil. "Waning tide," he said instead, addressing Oz, "I have no intention of unhanding this secretary—"

"And treasurer," Rio reminded them, the remnants of his voice high-pitched and screechy.

"—unless there's something you're offering."

Okita possessed that talent of all true Evils to sound perpetually as if he was discussing something very dull and vaguely disgusting, like the mildew that inhabited the walls of the boys' locker room.

"We're not giving you anything," said Gil, stepping up beside Oz and tying his arms into a firm knot. "The Student Activities Board will never stoop to the demands of the Disciplinary Committee."

Oz hummed in what might have been agreement and then asked, "What do you want?"

"Oz!"

"We might as well ask. What if he just wants a back massage?"

"I want his liver, heart and lungs," said Okita Sougo, pointing to Gilbert, "and his kidneys."

Oz wrinkled his nose. "His lungs? You do know he smokes, right?"

" _That_ 's the problem?" Gil squeaked.

"It's always a problem. You're destroying your health," said Oz, at the same time that Hijikata perked up and said, "Oh, you do? Got anything on you?"

This was too much for Gil. He pointed an angry finger at Hijikata and his ridiculous bangs. "You're supposed to be the Disciplinary Committee!"

Oz shot Gil a somewhat troubled look, like, out of all of them, _he_ was the one being unreasonable, before turning back to Okita. "What do you want with his organs?"

"To sell them," said Okita Sougo. "Obviously."

"Oh," said Oz, "That's alright then, I guess. But not the lungs."

"What?" Gil squeaked again, and then his voice went higher. "What?" He realized he was still pointing at Hijikata and snatched his hand back. "What is wrong with you people?!"

Oz frowned at him. "There's nothing wrong with us; we're just different."

"I'm not," said Hijikata.

"Neither am I," Rio coughed.

"Hey, Sougo," said Oz, lightbulbs flicking on behind his eyes as he peered down at Rio. "Why do you want Gil's organs? What's wrong with that guy's?"

Rio seemed to wilt into the floor, going whitish yellow like an old cauliflower. Gil sympathized—he really did—but Rio should've known better than to open his mouth. Still, he grumbled, "You were just saying how we had to save him," but he didn't bother shouting about it; he was all shouted out.

"Yes," Oz nodded solemnly, "but in war we must sometimes cut our losses."

Okita nodded, though his eyes were now trained on Rio rather than Oz. He gave Rio's back an experimental stomp.

Rio wheezed.

"No, I don't think he'll do."

Oz grimaced. "Perhaps not."

"Oh, well I'll take him."

Gil almost fell over backwards as Mr. Break stepped out of the supply cabinet in the back corner of the room, trailed by Sharon, who petted down her tulip skirt as if this was all a mild hassle but nothing noteworthy. Gil _did_ jump behind Oz and grab his shoulders, which he immediately released upon realizing no one was going to shoot them or drop a cat on his head or something equally horrible.

Hijikata's back had snapped straight at the sound of a teacher's voice, though he didn't get off his desk, and everyone else except Sharon had turned to stare at Mr. Break. Or perhaps at Emily, whose arms poked out from the coffee beaker he was carrying.

"Mr. Break!" Oz beamed.

Mr. Break tipped his head and waved.

Okita Sougo tipped his head and did not wave.

Rio's head tipped back into the floor.

"You want this?" Okita asked, giving Rio's back another prod with his boot as Mr. Break drew closer.

Mr. Break reached them and crouched down. "What do you think, Emily?"

"Hot," said Emily.

"Mmm," said Mr. Break, "Well, maybe not, but I think he'll do."

"You're confiscating my prisoner," Okita said, still in the voice designed for mildew contemplation.

Mr. Break tipped his head even further to the side, until it was parallel with Rio's, and then he reached out and pat Rio's shoulder. "I think I am."

Okita lifted his boot and stepped away. "What do we do now, Hijikata?"

"I suggest you talk things out," said Mr. Break as he hoisted Rio to his feet and smiled at all of them.

"Mr. Break, they're trying to take my kidneys!" Gil sputtered. "We've passed the time for talk!"

"Oh, you'll be fine, Gilbert," Mr. Break said, now at the door, dragging Rio and with Sharon right behind him. "Just talk low, talk slow, and don't say too much." And then he waved with his coffee beaker and Sharon closed the door behind them.

There was a click.

"They just locked us in, didn't they?" said Hijikata.

"It would seem so," Okita Sougo agreed.

"Awesome!" said Oz. "Do you think we'll get to spend the night?"

Gilbert sat down and pulled his knees up to protect his stomach. They could talk; they could fight; they could plot the assassination of the Baskervilles lead guitarist; Gilbert could care less. All he knew was that _no one_ was getting his kidneys!


End file.
